


All The Evils Of The World. Among Them Hope.

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Suilad Aran Thranduil [32]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Is this just fantasy?, is this the real life?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:54:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Someone, Galion, someone.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Evils Of The World. Among Them Hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is in reference to the fact that Pandora's box was said to hold 'all the evils of the world', and that when Pandora opened the box, she released all these evils into the world, except one. Hope, which was locked inside. Which (in a very confusing turn of events) makes Hope one of the evils of the world.
> 
> For those who don't know:  
> Estel means hope.  
> Irmo (alternatively known as Lórien) is the Vala of dreams, desires, and illusions. His brother is Mandos (alternatively called Námo), the Vala of the dead. Their sister is Nienna, the Valië of mercy and grief. (Their family dinners must be interesting.)

“Slap me.” Galion jumps at the sudden noise and turns to find his friend and king standing beside him, looking like if Galion says the wrong thing he’s going to fall apart.

“What?”

“Slap me. That’s what the humans do when they think they’re in a dream, isn’t it?” Thranduil fidgets, looking more than just a little unsure as he rubs his right hand up his left arm. Galion frowns.

“Why do you think you’re dreaming?” he asks. He and Thranduil have survived many battles together, but Thranduil has never been like this in the aftermath. Something happened on Ravenhill, something that’s thrown Thranduil.

“I have to be dreaming, Galion, I have to be.”

“Why?” Galion asks, he brings his hand up slowly, giving Thranduil enough time to pull away, and places it on Thranduil’s wrist before he gently pulls his friend after him into the Royal tent, and away from prying eyes. “What did you find?” he asks, pushing his friend down into a chair, he pours a glass of wine and presses that into Thranduil’s hand. Thranduil swallows the drink in one gulp and makes a face of distaste before holding his glass out for more.

“Legolas.” Galion’s body turns to stone, his fingers holding the wine bottle so tightly he thinks it might break. Suddenly the world seems too heavy and Galion can’t find his breath, and he closes his eyes to alleviate the sting that has started in them. “Alive.” Breath gushes out of Galion, and the pressure abates. He pushes the bottle of wine into Thranduil’s hands instead of pouring, and he falls limply into the chair opposite Thranduil.

“Alive?” his voice trembles, but it is nothing compared to the heart hesitantly beating in his chest. Thranduil nods slowly, puts the wine goblet down and places the stopper back in the bottle, which he then hugs to his chest. It is a posture Galion remembers well. He once said Thranduil pours his heart into his wine and, over time, he drinks it back up again. “Then why-?” Galion begins to ask, but he knows the answer. “This is not a dream, Thranduil.”

“How can you… how can you be certain?” Thranduil asks, his voice barely above a whisper. _Why would you dream this?_ Galion wants to ask, but he knows the answer, of course, because even when Thranduil dreams off good things he questions their existence.

“Because Irmo is not this cruel.” But Galion knows that isn’t quite true either. “You’ll see. At the feast tonight. This isn’t a dream, Thranduil, I promise.”

“I won’t.” Thranduil replies, shaking his head. “If he truly lives, he has gone into exile. I sent him North, to find Aragorn. I sent him to find _Estel_.” _Oh. Oh no._ “Whether he is dead or not, he will not be there when I wake tomorrow. His room will remain empty and untouched, and I will not know. Not all who fight in a battle are accounted for when it ends. If they do not find a body, I will never know if… I sent him to find hope, what if I’m seeking it myself?”

“You’re not dreaming, Thranduil. You’re not hallucinating. If you saw Legolas alive on Ravenhill then Legolas was alive on Ravenhill. Was there anyone else on Ravenhill?”

“Tauriel.” Galion winces inwardly at that but presses on.

“And did Tauriel see Legolas?”

“I did not think to ask.” Thranduil responds, a fierce light in his eyes.

“Why?”

“Because Tauriel was rather preoccupied with cradling her dead lover in her arms. Forgive me for not asking her if she had seen my son so that I could do the same for him.” Galion knows it is not him that Thranduil is angry at. “So much death, so much pain.”

“Legolas isn’t dead.” Galion knows that Thranduil will never believe him, not until Legolas is standing before him, not until the battle is nothing more than memory and Thranduil can see with his own eyes that Legolas is well. But for now, with orc blood upon his face, and the grief of his years upon his soul, Thranduil will believe nothing.

“Someone, Galion, someone.” Galion wants to ask what Thranduil means by that, but they’ve known each other too long, they’ve endured many of the same hurts too often. They understand each other far too well.

Everyone leaves someone behind on every battlefield.

And they don’t have many ‘someone’s left to spare.

**Author's Note:**

> When Thranduil and Legolas see each other after the battle, Thranduil shakes his head slightly and the expression on his face reads as 'this isn't real'. Which is... really, really not good when it's the last time they'll see each other for a while... 
> 
> http://33.media.tumblr.com/ba6c2a198b6e0a7693763f57974fd2ea/tumblr_nhyxmzuUsc1rp382io2_500.gif


End file.
